The One Time it Mattered
by SherlockedDancer
Summary: Sherlock's always running around enjoying himself a nice murder. People always tell him that it's not decent. He doesn't understand until the time it matters.


Chapter Text

Sleep, such a dull thing yet my body, as well as John, remind me that it is a necessity. A boring necessity, but a necessity all the same. I wake up as usual, reminding myself that I'm the only consulting detective in the world, and then grabbing my phone and anxiously flipping through messages, hoping that there is a nice murder. As I scroll this morning I read a message from Lestrade, a serial killer, they need my help. Suddenly I'm out of bed, I try to hold my excitement inside but I cannot. I clench my fists and jump up and down, an inevitable smile spreading across my face. Suddenly I am aware of someone's presence in the doorway.

"Hey Sherlock, thought I heard you up, came to check on you. Obviously all seems to be well. Something exciting then?"

I run to John and grab his shoulders, looking into his eyes, hoping that maybe I can make him feel just a bit of the excitement that I feel.

"Murder John! Lestrade texted!"

I'm nearly squeezing his arms to death as I share the great news with him. John still looks confused though so I clarify,

"Not just a murderer John, a serial killer! It's my lucky day! It's the best day ever! How can you not be excited on a morning like today?"

"Alright, alright Sherlock. It's not good to be so excited about this, maybe just calm it down a bit, being that there are people laying around dead and all."

As always John tries to tell me that this excitement is inappropriate, but as always I remind myself that normal brains don't understand true excitement. I just smile at John and turn him around, pushing him towards the door.

"Get ready quickly, meet you downstairs in five."

I get dressed quickly, grabbing my scarf and tying it around my neck as I run down the stairs. I nearly collide with Mrs. Hudson who is standing at the bottom with a tray of tea.

"Sherlock! Where are you off too? I just made tea."

"Not now Mrs. Hudson, there's a murder."

"Oh Sherlock, don't act so excited."

"It's a serial killer", I try to explain. She just shakes her head so I lean down and kiss her on the cheek, giving her my thanks.

"Fine, but please try to be considerate of others Sherlock. It's not good to be walking around acting all excited about death."

I don't have time to defend myself as I turn and see John coming down the stairs. He's wearing one of his hideous jumpers but I've learned to keep my mouth shut. I write myself a mental note to 'accidently' set his jumper on fire when he's out the next time. I nod to John and turn to the door opening it and breathing in the scent of London's busy streets. I hail a taxi and to make John less angry about the future burning of his jumper by holding open the door for him and letting him slide in first. I give the taxi driver the address and text Lestrade that we are on our way. Within seconds I am in my mind palace, going through files of previous serial killers, giving myself a refresher on the way they think. Suddenly I hear John's voice,

"Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock!"

"Ah, yes John, what is it? Are we there?"

"No Sherlock. Just wanted to make sure you where alright. You seem rather spacey but your fingers are moving a mile a minute and your legs are moving up and down at an un-human speed. Take a deep breath."

I nearly laugh out loud at John's comment. He doesn't understand the feeling of actually getting to use your mind. It's invigorating. It's a great substitute for cocaine and cigarettes. John doesn't like me talking about those things though so I keep my mouth shut. I quietly enjoy the little high that's building and the adrenaline pumping in my veins. I pretend to take a deep breath and consciously stop my legs from moving, but continue to let my fingers drum on my leg. John smiles at me. My heart skips a beat, but I remind myself that it's from the high of the case, not the beauty that is John. Not that I think John is beautiful, just, sometimes people enjoy other people's faces. I for one really enjoy John's face. That is all. Nothing sentimental or emotional. Finally the taxi stops and I throw some money at the driver as I burst out of the car that had suddenly become very small. I spin around once as my coat tail flies out behind me and find the police cars and caution tape. I smile and pull my collar up, ready to step on the scene. As I approach I remember John and Mrs. Hudson's words and I wipe the smile from my face. As John approaches I am reminded of the future of his burning jumper once again so I make the courteous gesture of lifting the caution tape up and letting him go under first. Dull things that normal humans find to be a kind gesture. John smiles and thanks me and I feel my heart skip a beat again. Dammit. John and his stupid smile. I find Lestrade and he starts explaining the case. I latch on to every detail and my mind begins to run wild. I walk around the crime scene for a quite a while, observing, taking samples of items when necessary and trying to wrap my head around this serial killer. I soon realize that time has been moving on for quite a while and I notice John looking antsy in the corner.

"Sorry John, I needed more information and time than usual. I think I'm going to head over to the lab and check out these samples. Go ahead and head home, I'll see you this evening, should be home in time for dinner." The stupid burnt jumper pops into my mind again and I quickly add, "I'll pick up some takeaway, Chinese food or something like that."

John seems more than thrilled to be released and thanks me as he heads out, striking up a conversation with Lestrade. I follow after them after a few minutes and make sure to turn to Anderson and give him a good scowl. I head for the exit as Lestrade approaches me,

"Have any ideas than? About who may have done this?"

"I've got a few. Got some samples, heading to Bart's to check them out. I'll text you later with more details. Hopefully shouldn't take too long. Although I'm sure you'll be busy tonight seeing as you are wearing different cologne."

Lestrade's face flushes,

"Just trying something new."

"Yeah, or you have a date with my brother tonight and your hoping to attract him. Probably hoping to sleep with him actually. Which is absolutely disgusting because I have no idea why in the world anyone would want to sleep with someone like him. I realized he was getting slower but obviously with this new love affair he's rather distracted, making him even slower than ever."

"I… I'm not… I wouldn't…"

"Save the words Lestrade. Also go back to your usual cologne, my brother likes that one much more and it gives you an approximate 47% higher chance of getting him in bed. Anyways have a disgusting evening! Cheers!"

Lestrade froze for a second, his mouth hanging open. Slowly he nods at me and I take this as my cue to leave. I pass Sally, giving her a similar scowl to the one I gave Anderson, and then I head for the main road, hailing a taxi. I arrive a Bart's and start right away with my samples. Time passes quickly and my phone lights up with a text. Shoot, it's getting late and I promised John I'd grab takeaway. I ignore the text and clean up my supplies, jotting down some final notes on my observations. I head out into the cool evening air and realize just how dark it has gotten. I hail a taxi and head to get dinner. I order and wait for the food and my phone starts ringing. I groan at the name that appears, Mycroft, probably asking me for some sort of 'sex advice'. Nonetheless I answer,

"Hello?"

"I see you've ignored Greg's text."

"Greg, who's Greg?"

"Lestrade?

"Oh, him. You know it's much easier to call people by their real names."

"Sherlock that is… never mind."

"Sorry I guess I forgot he texted."

"Well Lestrade has received a message from a person claiming to be the serial killer that you are trying to find. The serial killer told Lestrade that he has John."

"He what?"

"Sherlock do listen, I hate to repeat myself. The serial killer has John. Your John, John Hamish Watson."

"How do you know John's middle name? Never mind, did you track the call?"

"Yes but the phone number has already been unregistered."

I fall silent, how could I be so dumb. I got so wrapped up in solving this case that I completely ignored the danger that I put John into. How could I be so dumb as to leave John alone?

"Sherlock? You there?"

"Yeah, just… Could you send a car? I'll meet you and Lestrade at the last crime scene."

"I already sent one to your location, should be there in a second."

Sure enough a black car pulled up and the door swung open, I climbed in quickly and completely ignored Anthea, although she wasn't much for talking anyway. The car ride seems to take forever and my mind is racing. The thrill is all but gone, the excitement dwindled away, and the only thing left is fear, something I so rarely feel and I hate it. My body is betraying me. This serial killer has stumped me, they've slowed me down, and I'm not up to my normal speed. For once I'm thrown down the other side and John and Mrs. Hudson's words ring in my head. All those times they talked about the loved ones of those who were killed, how the families felt. Feelings and sentiment, they get in the way yet I was feeling them. I was terrified, because I realized now that the one person I actually cared about, the one person I actually loved, was in danger. For once I found my brain fried. Sentiment was clouding my brain, my brilliance, and my hard drive the one time I needed it. The one time it mattered.


End file.
